Thursday, December 9, 2010

Scar Q.

In class today someone asked me how I feel about my scars, and after thinking about it I realize I am unsatisfied with the answer I gave. True, my scars are both "cool" and "annoying" - especially the ones that are really sensitive and painful to touch - but they are more than that. After thinking about it, I realize that I place a lot of emotional value on my scars. They are important to me and they have become a part of how I see myself now. My scars remind me of everything I've been through, not only the pain and suffering, but also the strength and recovery evoked within me. I'm proud of my scars, just like I'm proud of myself. My scars are a part of me, and a constant reminder that though I might be easily broken, I am not and will not be defeated.


Monday, December 6, 2010


So, I've had my nails done since my cousin's wedding at the end of October. A frivolous waste of money, but it's girly and cute and I like getting them done. Of course, since my car accident I don't drive - both because, well, my car was totaled in the accident, and because I am terrified of getting behind the wheel. So the simple process of getting my nails done transforms into a hullabaloo, with me asking for rides from my (predominately male) friends and having them sit around waiting for me at the salon for an hour before driving me home... Now, my friends are very sweet, and even when I ask them terrible favors like this they never flinch or flail, but it's hard for me to burden them with such an obnoxious favor every three weeks. At the same time, it's hard for me to function when my nails start to grow out.

I found myself in this predicament one night in the middle of last week. The nail place I frequent closes at 8pm, and I had decided I would just go get the acrylic taken off so as to not burden my peers in the future. I organized for a ride, but something came up, the time got away, and I was left by myself, carless, afraid of driving, on the verge of ripping my nails off because they were driving me insane. It was 730pm, so I wouldn't have time to get anything done before they closed. I called the salon anyway, and asked if I could come in. They said yes, so I called a cab and a $13 cab fare later, I was there.

Of course, by the time I arrived it was nearly 8pm, so I couldn't just ask them to take my nails off. I decided to get them redone, since they were really kindly staying open late for me anyway. I was very proud of myself for organizing the adventure on my own - I know that there's nothing that exciting about taking a taxi, but I made my own decision, made the phone calls, and was able to more-or-less fend for myself, something that has been lacking since the accident. At the salon, I got a sparkly Christmas red color and trimmed my nails down shorter. The whole thing took about 45 minutes, and I was ready to go as they were turning off the lights. I grabbed my phone to call for a cab to pick me up, but instead the salon techs offered me a ride home. They said they were heading in my direction anyway, and that they would be happy to drop me off. Now, this offer might have just come from the fact that they didn't want to wait around for the cab to show up. But I think they truly took interest (or pity) in me and wanted to help me home. Maybe a little of both, but I climbed in the back of their car and they dropped my off at my apartment by 9pm.

I'm sharing this story because of its indirect affiliation with my car accident. A year ago, I would have just showed up at the salon, got my nails done in the early evening, and headed back to my place myself. Now my whole life has changed, and it takes my guts, a taxi-cab, and the kindness of salon techs to achieve one small girly and cute hobby I have. At least, at the end of the whole process, I have sparkly red nails.